Shadow of Death
by TheIsolatedShadow
Summary: Marina knew what loss was all too well; family members taken out by the horrible hand of fate in a single swoop stretched out over a decade while Jacob lives in the shadow of a twin and the memory of a woman he barely knew. When the two meet he is immediately in awe of the woman who stops a bar fight with the force of her anger. She, however, isn't all that impressed. At first.


**Welcome to a round of 'I have no idea where I'm going with this but it's going somewhere' with your host, me. I have wanted to write an Assassin's Creed fic for a long ass time but during that long ass time I decided to plan it out from scratch, following established lore and creating my own which fit into it so it didn't seem unbelievable.**

**This is not it. **

**This is a train ride we will take together and if it crashes and burns like the one Jacob derailed then whoops at least I have the other, well planned one.**

**Disclaimer I don't own Assassin's Creed if I did Desmond would still be alive and we would have a Syndicate sequel. Anyway on with the show.**

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_Whitechapel, London  
December, 1868_

"Winter is truly the worst time." Marina whispered, turning away from the mirror.

She sighed, wringing out the cloth back into the bowl full of warm water she had heated over the small fire in the fireplace. It would hardly be called a fire, more like embers, but they would have to make do until she could get enough coins for more logs.

The cough of the sick boy on the pile of bedding on the floor, positioned right in front of the fireplace to keep him warm, was the only sound in the tiny room. The youngest member of the family of three sat on the only bed they owned, wrapped in the rest of the bedding, watching her tend to their brother in silence. If you listened carefully, you could hear the chattering of teeth as she struggled to keep warm.

"Do we have enough fire for soup?" Josephine asked, shivering under the blankets.

She sighed once more. "I don't know, Josie, enough for Nicky I suppose. We don't have enough money for both logs and food for tomorrow unless one of us goes out and sell more flowers."

Josie let out an unladylike snort. "No one wants flowers in this weather."

Marina placed the cloth back on Nicholas' head. "Matches, then?"

"It's too cold to go out." her eyes flickered to the frosted over window. "And slippery. Why can't we use the last few logs we have?"

"Because we'll need some for tonight if we don't want to-" she came to a stop, stumbling over the next few words, her eyes darting to the sleeping form of her brother.

He had been ill for the past few days and seemed to get worse before he got better. Marina's heart plummeted into her chest every time she thought that he may not make it to spring.

Josie, who had been staring at the sibling closest to her in age, froze and looked in any direction that did not include him. "Aren't you not supposed to be at Mrs Devitt's today?"

She changed the subject fairly quickly, and Marina was grateful that she was blessed with an understanding sister like her, however young.

"Aren't you?" she retorted. "She heard that Nicky was ill and gave me-and you, might I add-the day off in exchange for next weeks. She may not care for her children, but she sure cares for other children's well-beings."

"Didn't give you money to treat him out of the kindness of her own heart, did she?" she argued.

Marina shot her a smug look as she stood up and made her way to the bed, grabbing the hair brush as she went. Josie, as fast as she could, lifted the blankets shielding her from the cold and Marina slid in to sit behind her, closing the makeshift barrier and wrapping it tightly around them. Josephine practically melted into her sister, feeling the heat radiating from her, most likely from her previous place next to the fire.

"Where do you think we got the money for the food that has been feeding us for the past couple of days?" Marina asked before setting to work brushing Josie's hair.

She looked over at the sack of potatoes sitting next to the fireplace that had mysteriously appeared the day Nicholas' illness turned from a simple cough to a fever. Having survived on bread and dripping all of her life she had been so surprised at the sack of vegetables that she nearly gave herself whiplash. When she had tasted her first ever potato in the soup Marina had prepared that very night she had actually cried real tears. She could only imagine what meat tasted like if dripping was so good.

"Well then you-...You should get married!" was her next bright idea, the halt of the slight tugging of her hair being her only indication that she had been heard.

The subject of marriage had not came up before, even in a joking manner such as this (although this time Marina had a slight suspicion she was being serious). She had been so focused on working to provide for the three of them that the topic of courting anyone had not occurred to her in the slightest, nor had she recognised any attempts from any boys as she had grown up.

"Oh! Right now?" she replied, amused. "Yes, let me run outside, find the nearest rich man and ask him to wed me. Oh I know, when ships full of people from Europe arrive in London 'll wait on the pier in a wedding dress for the first lonely man! It's not that simple as two strangers just deciding to marry."

"Why not? You would know him longer then most married folk." Josie responded, receiving a laugh from her sister.

"True, but I also have no money nor am I a catch. There are more prettier, richer women out there for lucky men to marry," she said, continuing to brush.

It was the truth, a fact that Marina was content with. She was plain; pretty enough to have a few even a couple of heads turn her way and not beautiful enough to have men tripping over themselves to get her attention. Brown hair was not at all attractive because of how common it was and she only had her eyes-a dark green bordering on hazel-to impress anyone.

She could, however, see that Josie, although nine years old, would be the pretty one. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a sweet round face, she was definitely going to be the beauty of the family.

Already she had heard rumours that because of her close friendship to her charge and Mrs Devitt's only daughter Elsie, her needlework which Marina took all the credit for teaching and her ability to know not to lie (or lie flawlessly) to someone as rich as Mrs Devitt that the matriarch of the family was looking at her to become her daughters Lady's maid in the next few years.

Marina had been ecstatic at the news; she would be paid much more money and be offered better accommodations then they had now. She would have a better life, which is why she was so committed to making sure she was happy and healthy. Josie currently worked as a parlour maid, simply because she was tall enough to pass as someone old enough to answer the door, announce guests and help serve meals. Nicholas was a page for the same family, an apprentice to one of the footmen.

Marina was just happy they were not a scullery maid or a chimney sweep.

Josie was quiet for a moment, turning her head to stare at her with a look of sadness but also...offended?

She opened her mouth, almost like she was going to say something before shaking her head and deciding to go down another route. "You're going to meet someone someday. You have three jobs! You must meet someone while you're there." she then abruptly argued, startling her.

The eldest then smiled at her insistence. "Name all three of my jobs."

She rattled off the list like it had been embedded into her mind since birth. "Seamstress, innkeeper-oh whatever it is you do at the pub-and nursemaid. You would think that all those jobs together would pay for food and medicine."

"Two of those jobs are just able to pay for the rent." she replied, grabbing the bow Elsie had gifted her friend one day and tying it into her hair. "The other is to make sure we're warm and well fed as best as I can."

"I know," she slumped and Marina felt bad for her.

Josephine and Nicholas had potential in this world that was stunted because of their background. She hoped everyday that a miracle would occur so they didn't have to work and could play like she once did, but that was over the minute her father was buried six feet in the ground and she began to realise how much they had relied on him.

She cleared her throat, gaining her attention. "Now I have to go to work. You'll know where to find me if something happens."

"At the pub I know."

Josie got off the bed and Marina handed her the blanket before standing up, brushing off her dress and feeling her hair to make sure it was perfect. Her boss did not like tardiness or messiness, so she had to make sure she was suitably clean. Molly would provide water to wash her face with once she arrived at the pub, and she prayed it was hot enough to warm her up better then the pitiful excuse of a fire did.

She grabbed her coat, gloves and scarf that had cost many months of saving up to buy (along with two more each for her younger siblings) in time for winter.

"Please, please look after him. I'll try and get medicine if I can."

Josie only glanced at her, and she knew that it was obvious that it wouldn't happen, no matter how many times she had promised day after day since Nicholas woke up with a fever. Sometimes she thought she knew what was inevitable, but she never told her that. Maybe she was just used to people leaving.

She knew she was.

"Everything will be fine."

She didn't respond to that, by words or movements. Marina looked away sadly, her eyes landing on the mannequin in front of the window.

A beautiful white dress sat on display, ready for a night of dancing and celebration. Marina crossed herself in hopes that this would be the only dress she would have to slave hours away making for a neighbour, who would be wed in only a few weeks. She sent a quick 'thank you' to Queen Victoria for starting a single colour trend for wedding dresses which women followed almost religiously to this day when it started 28 years ago.

"Everything will be fine," she whispered more to herself then anyone else before quickly opening the door and leaving, shutting it tightly after herself.

One of the things she loved about Whitechapel-and it was a very, very small amount-was where they lived. The building had three to four families in each room, but because they were on the top floor and their landlord pitied them they had it to themselves, albeit the smallest room. Unfortunately for them and other tenants, to leave the building you had to walk through other rooms belonging to other families, so she had to be very careful not to wake someone up or disturb people as she walked through their homes.

But when she got out of the front door and into the cold December air she wished that she lived in a big house with so many fireplaces she did not have to wrap up in many layers just to stay warm, and that she never had to stay outside too long. The wind blew through her pinned up hair and hit her right in the face, making her shiver and cross her arms.

She was very lucky to not be put off by wearing pants underneath her dress, a winter habit that her mother had instilled in her. "Why not? No one will even notice because no one will be looking at your dress," she had replied when she had asked, curiously stating she was not a man or child and had no need to wear them. So the extra protection kept her legs covered and warm.

With a quick fix of her hood she made her way down the street, passing familiar houses and stores, passing a curio shop owned by a Mr 'Henry Green' who wore strange outfits but always had a smile. Now he was hardly there. She hoped he was all right, he was a rather kind man.

She kept walking down the street before making a quick left turn then back down again, walking faster when she caught sight of the pub, already hearing the laughter and loud conversations from inside. She caught sight of Thomas, the owner of the establishment, outside hanging up the lanterns and lighting a candle inside them as the sky darkened.

"Sir," she greeted quickly before hurrying inside and breathing a sigh of relief.

Not only was it hot enough to immediately start warming up her freezing bones but the room was full, meaning more customers and more money in her pockets once she left tonight. She could probably pay for medicine on the way home if the pharmacist was open, but either way she was getting a huge payment.

She didn't stop to look at any individual, to see if there were newcomers or regulars, instead heading for the counter and to the door next to the shelves full of alcohol. A coat hanger rested to her left once she opened the door and entered the tiny back room, just big enough to fit a small kitchen. Another door led to a set of stairs where Thomas lived, but the small room was where she and Molly placed their stuff and where a bowl of warm water rested on a table and cloth.

Molly, a redhead only a few years younger then her, turned from where she was stirring the pot of porridge over the fire and offered a smile.

"Morning, Marina."

Although nearly 8pm, the two only saw each other at night considering they had other jobs during the day. It had became a running joke for them to greet each other like the sun had come up, even if it was already gone by the time they saw each other again.

"Morning, Molly," she took off her coat, scarf and gloves and hanged them up on the hanger. "How's things?"

Her smile became bigger. "Grand."

Marina, still holding her scarf, turned a little to look at her eyebrow raised. The eighteen year old never said her signature answer like that; it was dull, almost a sigh, that told her everything she needed to know. Sometimes it was more perkier, meaning she was in a good mood, but never this happy. She wanted to know what had changed. Immediately.

"Ooooh," she grinned, finally hooking her scarf up. "Who is it?"

The poor girl stopped stirring, standing straighter.

"What?"

She would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't come out like a squeak. The poor thing hadn't noticed how bright she was acting and was now paying for it with a nosy friend.

"You know what," she almost skipped over, not caring if Thomas came in to scold one of them for not being out there serving customers. "Who is it?" she asked again.

Molly didn't turn her head to look at her again but she could almost sense the reddening cheeks of a blush and Marina took all her strength not to squeal. "It's a wonderful, handsome man who I am happy to know."

"Oh my dear child," she wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her close. "Are you in love? _Is_ it love?"

"It's definitely affection." she replied, becoming more confident. "Not love yet, but there's something there...I hope?"

Insecurity came out in that almost whispered question and Marina squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry too much. You'll know if there's something there, unless you're stupid which I know you aren't."

Molly giggled and gave her a charming smile. "Thank you."

Oh, Marina just wanted to squeeze her freckled face.

Then the bubble burst as the door slammed open and Thomas rushed in, slamming the door shut behind himself. Thankfully he was lanky so there was still room to move, because his eyes were wild and he looked like he was going to faint. Marina let go off Molly and moved to the bowl of cooling water, beginning to wash her face.

"No one is out there!" his eyes darted between the two women. "Someone needs to help me!" he almost wailed.

"Well I'm sorry, I was busy needling poor Molly here for some information about her mystery man. You do know our little friend is in love, yes?"

Thomas' panicked face disappeared for a quick second to show the mischievous, teasing man he actually was and hardly showed. "Oh I know."

"Shut up you," Molly replied, and if it was anyone else she would have been sacked immediately, but it was Thomas.

He was maybe eight or ten years older then they were and one of the most down to earth bosses anyone could have. He allowed them to find humour in their work and sometimes joined in on the jokes or teasing, besides anyone could see her demand had been in jest.

"I will if one of you comes out and actually helps." he placed his hands on his waist, glaring at the redhead who just went back to cooking.

"I will, I will give me a minute." Marina replied, splashing her face then dabbing it dry with the cloth. "Some of them have already been served, there can't be _more_ people already?"

Actually, the noise did seem to have picked up since she was in there.

Apparently it had immensely.

"Oh no?" he pointed as she turned to look at him. "Take a look at who's just strolled in!"

She pushed him to the side and opened the door a crack, peeking out to take a look. A group of men and women dressed in green and yellow plaid had just found available seats, laughing and joking with one another.

They seemed to be much happier then their red counterparts, who seemed angry every day which only got worse with time. They spat something about 'bloody Rooks' and 'fucking Frye twins' whenever they came in but she didn't eavesdrop as it was none of her business. Their numbers dwindled with time and eventually you couldn't find a Blighter alone; they stuck together in twos and threes or even more.

Especially at night.

This group must be a small amount of the people that had fought against them from the beginning of the year.

And leading them was a broad man dressed almost too elegantly, finishing his ensemble with a black hop hat. He was in the midst of a conversation with one of his friends, his head turned in his direction, so she only saw sideburns going down to a beard with a scar. His hair was slicked back, but it was clearly brown. She couldn't see his eye colour.

He didn't look like he belonged in one of the poorest boroughs in London. That made her immediately suspicious.

"Who's that?" she asked, not having to look up to know Thomas was standing behind her, head above hers to peek out alongside her as Molly kept too stirring, eavesdropping on their conversation.

He looked down at her like she had been living under a rock all her life. "That's Jacob Frye-oh I'm sorry, _Sir_ Jacob Frye-leader of the Rooks."

"_That's_ Jacob Frye?" she looked back at him and immediately she was...kind of unimpressed. She couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling in dissatisfaction. "...I thought he would be taller."

Molly let out an unladylike snort from behind her and hopefully because it was loud enough for him to hear and not because of her opinion on him, said man turned his head suddenly and looked right at her. He was still too far away for her to get a good look at his eyes, but there was another scar right across his right eyebrow. Maybe the whispers were right, he was kind of handsome albeit with the face of a troublemaker.

Instead of just shutting the door and ignoring him, her face decided to react for her and she felt her eyebrows narrow, almost like she didn't like him or was insulted by him in some way. His reaction was just to look at her confused, like he was supposed to know who she was which he obviously didn't, and then she finally closed the door.

Thomas stepped back and she swivelled around to stare at him. "He better not start shit."

She rarely cussed, but the possible danger of a fight beginning in the establishment which she would have to tidy fuelled her. And some only swore under stress, intense situations and possibly around certain people who she couldn't help but curse around. He was either rather unlucky or one of these people.

"I'm hoping he won't." he replied, reopening the door for her.

She stepped out, her head involuntarily turning back to look at this infamous Jacob Frye. He hadn't looked back, instead taking a seat with his Rooks and laughing with them as they waited to be served. His carefree attitude was innocent and had not harmed her in anyway, but she couldn't help but feel like she should watch him extra closely while he was here.

"You know if he does I will hit him over the head with a tray," she added as Thomas began to fill tankards with beer.

That was another thing she liked about him; he didn't sit upstairs or in his manor, lazy and glutton. He actually helped run the pub, doing night shifts so the morning bartender could have a decent nights sleep.

He closed earlier then most pubs, but that just meant his service and produce were even better so more customers and better salary for the workers. She was surprised he hadn't bought the house next door and made the pub even bigger, maybe even into an inn to make a huge profit, but he seemed content with what he had now.

Thomas chuckled, but then seemed to remember just how irritated she could get with people like Jacob Frye. Watching a nineteen year old woman beat two fighting gentlemen three years ago instilled that knowledge right into his psyche. "Oh I know."

She walked around the counter and grabbed the first tray, holding it steady but tightly enough to prove her point, then gave a bright grin to her boss before heading to a table to deserve drinks.

Which is what she did for the next hour, refilling old tankards for second and third rounds or getting more for anyone who walked in and took a seat.

Eventually a tray went straight to the table full of Rooks for the fifth time and her first delivery over there and her smile vanished. None of them looked at her as she began distributing tankards, ignoring their conversations and focusing on not spilling any of the beer.

When she came back with the second round for the rest she made a point to give Jacob his last, but instead of allowing her to place it on the table to slide it over (regardless if he was sat right at the edge) he instead took it by hand, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing her knuckles. The pads of his fingers were rougher then hers, which was saying something considering she had worked all her life.

But then again he killed people for a living so what could compare?

He flashed her a smile. "Thanks, love."

She did not give him one back. "You're welcome."

Almost immediately he noticed how hostile her reply was, and she had no excuse to as why it sounded like it did. It had just came out like that, maybe because she could feel the irritation building with each passing second she was close to him.

Huh, his eyes were hazel.

God she really needed to sleep she sounded insane.

"What's with the aggression, love, I don't even know you."

As fast as lightning she answered, "And I don't want you too."

The sudden lack of their bosses' contribution to their conversation caused the Rooks he was with to focus on the both of them, eyes jumping back and forth between them like they were watching a game of tennis.

And then her life got even worse.

A group of seven to eight Blighters strolled in, not even noticing their rivals who all became silent at the sight of them. Molly (who had materialised out of nowhere and had been working on the other side of the room handing the porridge she had made to an old couple) sensed the appending danger and began to slowly crouch down behind the bar counter as both Jacob and Marina turned their heads to look at the door. One of the Blighters noticed the audience and caught his friends attention, which seemed to her like a bad idea.

"And so it begins," Marina muttered, beginning to back away slowly but holding the tray like a shield. Jacob sensed the movement as his eyes quickly looked over to her but he made no indication he cared she was leaving.

"Well, well, well look who it is," the Blighter sneered, "Jacob Frye and his army of birds."

Almost all the Rooks stood up and Thomas began to mutter prayers under his breath that no one would destroy his establishment.

Jacob however just turned back around, downed his beer in one go and then slammed it down on the table, rising to his feet. Marina knew what was coming before he even threw the first punch.

"Oh for fucks sake."

The force of the hit sent the man's head back and his body practically arched backwards, and without hesitation the Blighters and Rooks charged forward to defend their own. It was almost like a bloodbath, the yelling and noises of bone hitting bone was loud, almost as loud as the screams of innocent bystanders who all either sat in their seats frozen in shock or had ran out to get away.

Jacob was throwing the strongest punches which didn't seem surprising as he was a rather broad man. Equipped with brass knuckles he threw punch after punch, each one getting more painful and worse to see.

When he threw a Blighter across the counter, nearly hitting Molly who squealed and curled up more, hands above her head as the body hit the shelves of bottles of spirits and wine, sending glass and liquid onto the floor and onto the redhead was when she snapped.

Adrenaline filled her as she grabbed her skirts, climbing onto the counter and standing on top of the wood, eyes flashing with fury. With a deep breathe and a voice she had not used in years, she called attention the entire room.

_**"ENOUGH!"**_

Her loud shout fuelled with irritation caused the brawl to stop completely. Silence filled the room, and all heads whipped around to stare at the twenty two year old woman standing on the counter.

"You will stop this fighting at once! For the past week my brother has been ill and I've had to work three jobs even harder and longer to even hope to pay for medicine, and now I have to spend hours cleaning up your mess?! _No._"

Both groups stared looking almost like owls, frozen in their surprise, but her fists still remained clenched and against her hips. Molly slowly stood up from her crouched position, glass in her hair and strands drenched with alcohol. Thomas was against the wall, eyes wide. Jacob was staring at her like she was the answer to his life questions or like she was the one he had been waiting for all his life.

It confused her and was off putting from a stranger, but she continued with her scolding.

"You will all clean this mess, get out and take yourselves elsewhere. This is ridiculous; you do not own this place nor do you have the money to help pay for the damages you have caused to this poor gentlemen's establishment. You are acting like children, and you're all grown men and women. _I do **not** like my voice like this._"

She took a deep breath and she immediately felt better. Maybe she wouldn't have snapped if she hadn't been under stress with Nicky but she felt lighter then she did before. "Now."

A hand appeared and she took it generously, getting down off the counter and letting it go, turning to quickly thank them before her plan to rush into the back room and cry for half an hour. Instead of Thomas or a random stranger who's name she did not know, Jacob stood there and his face had not changed from the one before; awed staring.

"What?!" she breathed and he immediately blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in.

"Uh..." he coughed, clearing his throat. "I-"

She raised an eyebrow, waiting but he decided against whatever he was going to say and instead began cleaning, picking up chairs and placing them back into their previous positions. She didn't even look back to question him any more, instead rushing to the back room, slamming the door shut behind her and breaking down, dropping to the floor, pressed against the door leading upstairs and sobbing into her hands.

The cry that had been years coming-her brothers and sisters and parents dying, the weight of work, looking after two children, Nicky getting ill and looking worse each day until she began to believe she would lose another to illness-felt good once she had ran out of tears, limply leaning against the wood, taking deep gulps of air to calm herself down. No one, not even Molly or Thomas had came in and for once she was thankful for it. She didn't want to be seen like this.

However it seemed her boss had been listening because the minute she felt slightly better he came in, quietly opening and closing the door. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, sensing him grabbing her stuff and walking towards her.

"Marina."

Her name caused her to look up and she hoped that she didn't look as horrible as she felt.

"You should go home and sleep," he looked at her with pity and she felt sick to her stomach with the look. She did not need it. "You look like you're going to pass out. I'll pay you for today tomorrow when you leave, I promise."

She wanted to argue, insist she gets paid now so she can buy medicine for her baby brother but she doesn't know how long she has been curled up crying, and she is utterly worn out. "But I-" her voice sounded raspy, -"all right."

He helped her up and into her coat, wrapping the scarf tightly around her and making sure her gloves were on properly. She pulls up the hood herself and it feels like no one is staring at her, like she's alone in her own thoughts once more.

Thomas, like a gentlemen, escorts her out of the back room and through the pub which was now practically empty except for Molly who was cleaning up tankards. Her hair was drying and she seemed to have gotten most of the glass shards out but she had flashed a smile her way regardless, even if guilt bubbled in the receiver's throat.

She had been in the back for hours, crying like a child while she and Thomas worked harder in her absence. She didn't even deserve today's payment. All she did was yell and sob.

"I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Thomas asked once they arrived at the door.

Marina looked up at him. "Tomorrow's Sunday."

"Right, right. Closed." he patted her back. "See you Monday then."

She smiled but it did not quite reach her eyes. "See you Monday. Bye, Molly." she whispered.

"Bye, Marina," the nineteen year old replied. Maybe one day she would hound her for more information on her mystery man but tonight was terrible for her, and she would do it on another better day if she could remember. It would be like the past few hours had not just happened.

And so, with Thomas watching, she set off on her way home. It was coming close to 11pm and although she lived close by it was almost too dark to see, the lanterns outside businesses were her only guide and helped her navigate the dark streets of Whitechapel. It was a route she had taken many times before, but this night because of her foolish actions anyone could be waiting for her.

Blighters angry that she had treated them with disrespect, Rooks not wanting to be bossed around by her...

The feeling of eyes and the brief sounds of unnatural noise following her home did not help.

At times she turned around to see if it was just a stray cat or a stalker but no one was there. The feeling got more intense whenever she walked through dark patches until she had practically ran into her building, making sure to slow down and calm herself as she climbed the stairs through room after room until she made it took her home, the room with the only door.

Before she slipped inside and passed out onto the bed she rubbed her face furiously, making sure there was no trace of anything that could indicate she had been upset. No one would sleep if Josie found out; pestering out of nosiness and worry would last all night and she did not need that right now.

Once she thought her eyes were a lighter red that could easily be explained by the cold air outside she stepped into the room, closing and locking the door quietly, beginning to take off her winter outfit. Because of his illness she would have first double checked to make sure Nicky was breathing, but she was too tired to even look at him (and the quiet snoring coming from the floor was proof that yes, he was alive and if not, someone who sounded a lot like him was) that all she did was change into her nightgown, blew out the candles lighting the room, threw in the last remaining logs into the fireplace and climbed into bed.

Josephine was already there, curled up and pressed against the wall under blankets. Her steady breathing and lack of snoring told Marina she was wide awake and sure enough blue eyes peered at her through blonde hair. She smiled and prayed that it was dark enough that she didn't see that the smile did not reach her eyes.

The younger girl pulled back the covers and Marina climbed in, snuggling into the pillow and letting out a sigh of relief, already feeling sleep beginning to overtake her. However Josie did not settle, instead she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

Marina tried her best to ignore her until even she could hear her thinking. Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep with it nagging at her brain she sighed, giving an indication that she was awake and willing to listen. Josie pretended she had not heard her.

"Marina? About our conversation earlier-?"

Now she was curious. "Yes?"

"_I_ think you're a catch."

She immediately, and she didn't know why she did, thought back to that irritating leader of the Rooks and his stare.

"Thank you."

* * *

**Fun fact Josephine and Nicholas were from an early first draft of my hopefully well planned Assassin's Creed fic but were cut out because when I got further into planning they didn't exactly fit into the narrative. Like at all. So here they are clawing their ways into this one.**


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